


Soot and Sin

by nanianela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Season/Series 10, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel Loves Dean, Disabled Dean, Gen, Insecure Dean, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Possessed Sam, Sam is Missing, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Soul Bond, endverse vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanianela/pseuds/nanianela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up from Season 10 canon. Castiel finds Dean barely alive inside his soot-blanketed car, reeking of carnage and weak from blood loss and shock. But the Darkness takes what it wants- leaving Dean without the arm that previously housed the Mark, and without his brother. Just like the Season 10 title card had suggested, Castiel must make an angelic bond with Dean and use his grace to burn the Darkness out of him once and for all. They can only go from there to hunt down Sam and try and save the world {again}. Basically writing a Season 11 before it begins!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that when Castiel talks to himself he uses bits of Enochian, but mainly English.  
> [ _esiasch_ means brother]

Each breath grated against the back of his throat like steel wool, and the taste of iron coated the back of his tongue. _Dean_ , Castiel repeated the name as a manta to himself once again as he limped on, panting, each footfall kicking up a talcum powder soft cloud of the soot layered thickly on the ground. _Dean Winchester is close. He is close, and he is dying._ He passed the large, softly sloping hill of black that he suspected contained a building, and he finally laid his eyes on the soft curve of black ash covering something the size of a car. _The_ car.  

 _Celerity, Castiel_. The angel urged himself on and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and red smeared against his tan sleeve. _Dean, ol esiasch. I am here. I am coming for you._

Castiel smeared his hand over the side of the lump of ash, and the silver handle of the car door very dimly shone back at him, covered in grime. The door groaned and then squealed in protest as the angel wrenched it open. Jet black ash broke into several tiny waterfalls from where it had layered about half a foot deep on the roof of the car, streaming down to form tiny mounds on the ground before trickling to a stop.

It was hard to see inside the car, as the soot had blanketed all of the windows and the windshield as if it had created a miniature cave. Castiel squinted hard into the small pocket of darkness, and saw only one human being draped limply across the car's leather bench seat. The interior of the car reeked of blood, and as he watched the large garnet pool collected on the seat dribbled down the side of the leather to wick into the carpet on the floor. 

"Dean," His voice was more of a raspy growl, as he ducked into the car and wrapped his arms around his chest, sliding him backward with a large grunt. Dean's right arm had been ripped clean off, almost all the way up to his shoulder, leaving just a small nub behind. Bright red strips of flesh hung like raw chicken strips Castiel had seen Dean cooking in the kitchen once, and his stomach knotted uncomfortably at the connection. He saw the severed bone poking out from the lump of bleeding flesh and felt his face grow tight. _Stop the bleeding_ , the angel thought in a panic, _Or he will suffer from severe exsanguination._

He reached out and lightly touched his shoulder where skin was still intact, funneling a bit of his grace into healing the skin over, just so he could stop the bleeding for now. The regrowing of the limb could come later, when he'd have more time to concentrate. He tilted his head to the side in confusion and withdrew his hand. _Nothing_. Nothing had happened. Screwing up his face, he poked his fingers to Dean's shoulder again firmly and shot out more energy, and that was when he felt it. The repression. 

"Oh, boy." The angel huffed. The Darkness wouldn't let him. 

 _Tourniquet, Castiel._  Quickly _,_ his fingers tugged at the tie around his neck. Once it came undone he pulled at one side and it slipped into his hands. He grimaced as he looped it over Dean's shoulder and tucked it under his armpit, and with a harsh couple of tugs he made it as tight as possible before tying it.

He let out another nervous huff and reached out to slide Dean's gun with the lovely pearl grip from the holster on his thigh. With a tight exhale, he emptied the shiny bullets from the chamber to tumble into his slightly bloody palm. _Cauterize this wound immediately_. Castiel popped each bullet open easily, as his inhuman strength was back with the returning of his grace. He packed the gunpowder onto the raw flesh until the entire stump was covered in the black grit like a steak covered with pepper and- _oh_ , his stomach slowly rolled. Castiel's had to close his eyes for just a split second. _Stop comparing this situation to culinary ones,_ he had to firmly remind himself. _Your vessel could react --unpleasantly._

He dug around in the glove compartment for their trusty old and scratched steel lighter. He unsheathed the lighter with a faint clink, and swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry, Dean." His voice trembled, and he quickly flicked the grooved wheel with the pad of his thumb and the flame danced as his hand shook. 

Dean didn't even flinch. 

The smell of burnt flesh made Castiel retch and cough, but at least the blood flow had been cut off. The angel took Dean's good arm and looped it over his neck, and with a loud grunt slung the rest of his body across his back into a secure Fireman's carry. He wrapped his forearm tightly along the back of Dean's knees and lifted, a hiss of air escaping his interlocked teeth. Dean's listless head flopped down and his ash-dusted cheek pressed to the angel's shoulder. The stump of his arm hung just a few inches from the angel's face as the other limply down Castiel's back, his curled fingertips brushing the small of his back. That charred smell made the angel wrinkle his nose in disgust. 

"Sam!" Castiel's throat was too constricted, making the call much quieter than he would have preferred. He coughed, the air was still heavy with pollution and he could feel it aching in his lungs. Dean's clammy cheek bumped along his shoulder with each hacking cough. He cleared his throat and tried again.

" _SAM!_ " He bellowed, his teeth flashing much whiter from the dark grime smeared on his face. "SAM! _SAMUEL!_ " He scanned the area, looking for anything that could signify the presence of the younger Winchester. He dipped his head into the bloody cave of the car, but it was empty. He looked for any human-sized lumps covered in ash, or signs of him getting out of the car and leaving...nothing. Not even a single footprint, unlike the deep trail of footprints the angel had made on his way to the buried vehicle. It was like he'd vanished into thin air. The angel couldn't feel him nearby, either.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel whispered defeatedly as he outstretched his wings to fly. "I'm sorry, Sam." 

* * *

  _Tik, tik, tik._

Dean couldn't quite remember the moment when he'd actually woken up. His eyes were partially open and he squinted through his eyelashes, the only thing in his field of vision was a slowly spinning fan, way up above. One side from the pentagram consisting of several crossing chains had come undone, and the hanging chain was clinking against the slow-spinning fan blade. 

_Tik, tik, tik._

Dean blinked. _Where the hell am I?_ He was in a bed and he was shirtless, he could tell, and large strips of cloth were wrapped around his pectorals and thickly padded along his shoulder. His jeans were gone, too, he was just in his cotton boxers. 

"Dean," He heard the familiar gravel next to him.

"Cas..?" He tried to turn his head, but a firm hand shot out and kept it in place. 

"Try not to move," Castiel instructed firmly. "Try and relax your body." 

When his face did come into Dean's view, Castiel was peering down at him with a small frown. He looked even more disgruntled than normal, his hair was a mess and he still had dirt smeared on his face.

"Oh, Dean." He huffed in a cranky little grumble, the pressure from his hands surrounding Dean's face as he gently cupped his cheeks. "What happened this time?" 

"I had _nothing_ to do with it," Dean mumbled, his eyes falling closed once again. "Something came out of the frickin' **sky** \- _literally_ , Cas, out of goddamn nowhere-"

"Shh." The angel's calloused thumb gently smudged the stubble on his cheek. He gazed at Dean, a deep sadness tightening the features of his face. Dean could only peer back with half-hooded eyelids. "I know. I was there when Rowena completed the spell. You are not to blame for this." 

" _Thank_ you," Dean huffed irritably. He figured all this pain was factoring into his less-than-pleasant mood: his arm that used to have the Mark still burned, and Dean wondered why Cas had let him have it in such an uncomfortable, twisted position while he slept. 

"Cas, jesus, my _arm_." Dean hissed, trying to flex his muscles to try and stop the burning, but something felt off. "Untwist it or something.. _ahhh_. It hurts." 

"Dean-" Cas began, his voice very low. He let out a dejected huff of air. "I'm going to sit you up now." 

One of Cas's palms curled around where his shoulder met his neck, and gently squeezed there. He pressed his other palm flat over his shoulder blades and helped to pull him to sit up straight. It gave Dean a head rush, as a tinny ringing suddenly filled his ears and black splotches overcame his field of vision. There wasn't much to see in the safe room except a wall with pinned articles from a case from a long time ago, and Cas. Cas looked very worried, a tiny wrinkle had formed in between his eyebrows and he ground down on his teeth, Dean could see the slight ripple in his jaw. 

"Are you alright," Cas ended his question in a hard tone, scrutinizing him with a squinty stare as he steadied him with one hand and used the other to cup the side of his face as Dean's eyelids fluttered.

"-Just got dizzy for a second," Dean mumbled defeatedly, leaning into the soft touch of Cas's hand on the side of his face. God, he felt so weak. He had no idea why Cas was suddenly being so affectionate with him, but he didn't mind at the moment. He felt like shit, and it was kind of helping (not that he'd ever admit to that). " 'M okay." 

"You've lost quite a lot of blood. When I finally got to you, I think you'd gone into shock as well." The angel paused and dipped his head in shame for a second, as if he were working himself up to say something. His tongue darted out to nervously lick his lips, and he seemed to be looking everywhere except Dean's eyes. "Dean, I...I just need you to know I did everything I could, and I tried everything I know. I couldn't fix it." Cas began reluctantly. 

"What are you talking about? Sorry for what?" Dean closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The pain in his head was agonizing, throbbing against his temples. He already knew something didn't feel right. 

"The Darkness takes what it wants and-and they took it back." Cas explained in defeat, his voice scratching at the back of his throat as he kept Dean upright by holding onto his bicep. "They took the arm, and they took Sam." 

"Cas, what are you--" Dean moved both of his arms to look at his hands, but he saw only his left palm trembling back at him. The head rush returned in full, the room grew exceptionally bright and a flurry of black snowflakes swirled in his field of vision. He barely registered the hands that swiftly helped to lower him to lie back down, and he moaned softly as something ice-cold pressed to the back of his neck. 

"I've learned the nurses do this after blood donations. I don't actually know why. I think it helps?" Cas spoke calmly. He paused for a beat. "Is it helping? Dean?"

The world was churning for Dean at a very unpleasant rate, and he just tried to focus on his breathing. 

"...Dean?" 

"Cas, jesus, give me a second here!" Dean shot back irritably. "My _head_ , goddammit." 

When Dean's vision finally stopped swirling, he made out the angel's worried expression once again.

"I'm sorry. You weren't ready to sit up yet, I don't think." Cas mumbled. 

"Worst nurse ever," Dean mumbled, still trying to joke. The corner of his lip ticked up into a smile. 

" _Dean_ -"

"Kidding." Dean quickly interjected before the angel could get any more offended. He blinked and his eyes searched the angel's face slowly, he was frowning sourly and hovering very close to his bedside. Dean realized Cas must have hated to see him hurt like this, and being powerless to help. His worrisome expression was easy enough to figure out. 

"Cas, I don't know why but I...I can still feel it." Dean began numbly, trying to flex both of his hands into fists again. His missing arm that had once had the Mark still burned, liked it was somehow twisted behind his back. His heart had started to pump quickly, and he could hear the rapid beat from behind his ears. 

"Phantom limb syndrome." Cas explained quietly. "I thought that might happen to you. It was...torn away quite violently."

"Jesus," Dean sighed, covering his eyes with his palm. "And you said Sammy..." 

"Sam was not there when I got to you. I've tried everything to find him, and I...I can't. The Darkness, it hinders me somehow. I don't understand it. I can't heal, I can't connect to angel radio, flying is very difficult. I'm..." 

"So you're all powered down again?" Dean asked, ticking up an eyebrow. 

Cas shook his head slightly. "Not...exactly. My grace is all there, it just feels...strange. It's being repressed." Cas didn't look any less worried. "Dean, some of this Darkness was still within you when I found you. That's why I put you into this room instead of your own bedroom. It's still inside of you, and I..." The angel finally seemed to break, digging his the bottoms of his palms into his eyes as he sat back down into the chair angled next to Dean's bed. "I'm at a loss, Dean. I don't have all the answers. I've _tried_. I-I don't know." 

 "Cas-" Dean tried to interject. 

"I don't know where Sam is, things aren't _working_ Dean, I..." The angel buried his face in his hands. "I couldn't protect the two of you, and-I can't... I'm sorry, Dean." 

"Hey." Dean said softly. "Cas, look. Things are just...what they are right now. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? We can figure this all out. We can find Sam, get this Darkness bottled up or whatever...you get me?" He struggled to sit up- it took a lot more ab muscles that usual- but managed to shift and get his legs dangling over the side of the bed. 

"Yes," Cas croaked, finally lowering his hands and peering at Dean over them. 

"-And you're not actually the _worst_ nurse ever." Dean hoped that would make Cas smile. "And I mean- _it's just a flesh wound._ _'Tis but a scratch_ ," Dean put on an awful English accent and gave Cas a shit-eating grin as he threw his arm out in an open gesture. "Ah? _Ah?_ "  

"Dean, you are-" The angel shook his head but finally did smile, just barely. It vanished quickly, but at least it was there. _Damn,_ Dean thought. _Did Cas really just **get** a reference?_

"So, can I go for a stiff drink now, or what?" Dean asked, his hand plopping down with a faint smack onto his thigh. "And maybe put on some actual clothes?" 

Castiel's eyes flew wide for a second before he stood back up and stopped Dean from standing up. "No! No, uh, just stay here." He sputtered. "I don't know what will happen to you if you get closer to the source. Outside." 

"Right." Dean grumbled. "Darkness, inside me. Can't forget about that." 

"Yes." Castiel replied. "It's nothing compared to all that was stuffed inside of you when you had the Mark, but it is significant. I think I know of a way to..." He trailed off, looking unsure that he really wanted to say the next thing. His eyes flicked nervously to meet Dean's. 

"You know a way to fix it, don't you?" Dean prompted. 

"I...yes. Maybe. It's all hypothetical." 

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged dramatically. Oh wow, that really threw off his balance. "Well?" 

"I could..." Cas looked extremely nervous, and he was doing that thing were he looked everywhere but Dean once again. "I could, well, bind you to me. Our souls. Uh, together. Soul... binding. It would effectively burn the Darkness inside away, out...uh..." Cas cleared his throat, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else, but he closed them again and let out an embarrassed huff. 

There was a beat of silence. Dean stared at Cas, raising his eyebrows. Cas stared back solemnly, and when Dean screwed up his face and shrugged again he tilted his head slightly to the left. " _What?_ " The angel huffed crankily. 

"Christ, Cas, if it's that easy then let's just do that right now!" Dean had to chuckle. 

The angel flushed very red suddenly at that. "Oh, well, I...Dean..." He turned away, fiddling for no feasible reason with the ice pack and little bottles of painkillers he'd set up on a bedside table. "It's...uh...."

"Yeah?" 

"It would be permanent." The angel began, licking his lips. "It's...probably too intrusive for your liking." 

"Well, like what?" 

"We would be able to sense each other's locations at all times." Cas began tentatively. "We could tell how the other is feeling." 

Dean paused and gave Cas a _look_. His intense _'Dude, are you serious?'_ look. "Well, that's good, right? Like, if you'd done it with Sam we'd know where he is right now- It would probably be a good idea if we got separated, and well...whatever. Maybe that other part will help with all your emotional constipation." 

Cas looked offended. " _My_ emotional-!" 

"Fine, maybe a little bit of mine, too." Dean teased, somewhat shyly. "What else?" 

"Nonverbal communication, as well." Cas elaborated. "But Dean, I don't think you understand the _permanence_ of this kind of decision-" 

"Great." Dean interrupted gruffly. "Cas, the permanence is _great_. Since when has anything good in my life stuck around?" 

"How are you so sure that it will be a good thing?" Castiel asked quietly. 

"Because I've known you for six years now and..." Dean trailed off, not quite sure what to say. "Look, you told me yourself you'd stick around long enough to "see me murder the world", remember that? After everyone else was gone? If you were willing to stick around for me in the first place, well, I guess...I'd stick around for you, too." It was almost like what he'd just said took a second to sink in for Dean, as he suddenly dipped his head in embarrassment. Had he really just said that out loud?

The was a beat of slightly awkward silence. "Then we will." Cas cleared his throat, still turning his back to Dean as he fiddled with an orange pill bottle and shook a few pills into his hand. Dean had no idea why Cas was making such a big deal about it, but then again he did things like that all the time. "Take these for the pain. And I will start collecting the ingredients soon." 

" _Great_ ," Dean was still feeling slightly embarrassed by his choice of words earlier. He tossed the pills back into his mouth and took the water bottle Cas offered and chugged almost the whole thing, not realizing how thirsty he'd been. 

"-Besides," Dean grunted when he'd finally drank his fill and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I don't think I can 'murder the world' with only one arm." 

Cas turned his face just enough toward him so that Dean could see him rolling his eyes, before he stalked quickly from the room, the bottom of his filthy trench coat billowing slightly out from behind him. 

"C'mon, it was _funny!_ " Dean called after him.

"That is the Darkness speaking," Cas called back sourly, still refusing to turn around. 

"Hey, "The Darkness" can't tell a joke like that!" Dean surprised himself at how much better he felt when he was smiling. "Cas, _c'mon_!" 


	2. Chapter 2

_Study: The Darkness- Dean Winchester_

_Estimation: approx. 120 mL_

_Expressed Symptoms: Disconnect from reality, Dulled Emotions, Lightheadedness [Note: Possibly from Blood Loss], Short Attention Span, High Pain Tolerance_

Castiel stared at the page in John's journal, tapping the pen to his lip in thought. What other word could he use besides 'Jokes'? The fact he wasn't taking things seriously- no, that would have been covered with the "disconnect from reality". What really made the angel's chest ache was how little Dean had seemed to care about Sam's well-being: Dean mentioned him once, maybe twice. It was like he had been talking about a boring movie instead of _Sam_. 

_Disregard of Loved Ones,_

Cas jotted down next to everything else, and a small twinge squeezed his chest once again. "Oh, Sam." He whispered softly to himself. "Dean will come around." 

_Jokes._

He finally gave up and wrote the simple word down, ending the sentence with a moody final poke at the paper for the period. He put the pen down with a sigh. Of course, considering the last time he'd seen Dean it had been much, much worse, Castiel knew he still was not himself. Cas shut the book and gently ran his fingers over the worn leather cover. He sighed and put it back on the table, and folded his hands together in his lap for a moment just to think. Dean was used to working very hard to appear normal after the Mark, and he didn't seem to know about the trace amount of Darkness still inside. But if this infected most of the human population- 

If it could get Dean to barely care about Sam, it was something _very_ powerful indeed. 

"Cas?" Dean darted up in his bed once the angel unlocked the door. "Oh, thank god- I'm so hungry. Can't you bring me something to eat, man? Like, a burger and fries or something?"

"Yes, soon." The angel replied hastily, striding forward and feeling Dean's forehead. Through the skin-to-skin, he was able to get a clearer gauge at just how much of the substance was there.

"I don't have a fever." Dean said, looking up at him in confusion. "I feel fine. I really want to get out of this _room_ , man."

 _150mL_ , Cas was able to narrow it down. _It's growing_.

"-Cas!" Dean snapped. "Didn't you hear me? Just let me go upstairs! I'm fine, and I'd _reaally_ like to rest in my own bed right about now."   

"You are not fine, Dean." Cas mumbled back. "You are not yourself, and it's...it's growing." 

"Cas, my arm hurts like a bitch, I can't sleep on this bed, and I'm...I'm _fine_ , okay?" Dean moaned in annoyance. "And I'm hungry as hell!" 

"If you were fine, then why aren't you worried about Sam?!" Cas finally accused, angrily narrowing his eyes at him and taking a step back, curling his hands into fists. "This Darkness is very dangerous. He could be dead, or-or _worse_!" 

Dean stared back blankly at him. "Of course I'm worried about Sam," He replied, much too hollowly for the angel's liking. 

Exasperated, the angel bit down hard and tried not to roll his eyes. He stared down Dean and his jaw rippled just slightly as he clamped down on his teeth. "Dean, I've been observing what this darkness does to you. And many of these symptoms...I believe are in line with Croatoan." 

Dean groaned in annoyance and covered his face with his hand. "Cas, Jesus Christ, stop with the dramatics, you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion!" Dean looked up at him, beginning to laugh at how serious Cas looked.

"Come on, I just got my arm torn off, I think I'm allowed to be a little grumpy! Are _any_ of those "symptoms" something like, I don't know, what those painkillers would do?" He nodded toward the multiple orange bottles. "If I'm taking _Vicodin_ , of course I'll be loopy. And I haven't eaten in like...three days!"  Cas almost began to doubt himself again. _Was_ he blowing it all out of proportion?

"We bond tonight," Cas said gruffly, turning away before he could doubt himself more. Dean was not himself, that was the one thing the angel was sure of. He needed to burn out the substance before it could grow any more.

"Cas, wait-!" Dean yelped as he almost shut the door. "I have a couple sandwiches in the fridge, Cas, I am _begging_ you to bring them down here for me. And more water. Tons of water. Some snacks."

 Cas looked back at him, still clamping down hard on his teeth. Dean looked pitiful- he looked completely off-balance with only his left arm, and the bandages were packed heavy over his missing stump. It was strange- the missing space kept drawing the eye, like if the angel looked away and then looked back it would be there again. Dean's gaze was a bit glassy-eyed, and his skin looked pallid and wan. 

"Cas, please." He croaked defeatedly, lying back down on the bed with a loud creak. Without saying anything, Castiel turned away and firmly closed the door. Instead of leaving right away, he found himself reaching up and lightly pressing on the door with the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes, and caught his breath for a moment. When Dean had been a demon, sometimes he had been so painfully like his old self that Cas could forget what was happening. He was very good at fighting things that changed him. _This is no different, Castiel._

The world outside would not be doing much better, he reasoned. This Darkness seemed to make humans lose everything that gave them humanity- their kindness and love for one another would be completely obliterated as the substance would be allowed to fester inside of them. The angel bowed his head and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't do this by himself. He needed Dean by his side, and after he cured him they could begin to try and fix this mess, together. 

 _Sam. Claire._ Castiel rested his forehead in the crook of his arm, pressed to the cold steel of the door as he leaned against it defeatedly. _They are still there, in the outside world- ol esiasch od pasbs, my brother, my daughter..._

He felt a strange pinch in his throat. He'd only felt this emotion a few times since he'd occupied a vessel, which he'd come to know as the moment before warm saline leaked from ducts in his eyes. It was not a very pleasurable sensation and he hoped he could avoid it this time. He finally leaned off of the door and rubbed his hands down his cheeks, the uncomfortable pinching in his throat beginning to go away. He turned around to bring Dean as much food as he could from the kitchen.  

* * *

They way Dean ate made him sick. He devoured the three sandwiches he'd had, barely even taking the time to chew properly, even though he struggled to eat with just one hand that did not slow him down. After he'd consumed the three sandwiches at a rapid rate, and went on to pour the bag of chips into his mouth, polish off the entire rest of the jar of pickles and then, when everything else was gone, he shoved whole pieces of bread into his mouth by their middles, folding them over and swallowing them after only a couple bites. 

_Subject's Hyperphagia is alarming. Appears ravenous with no regard to how much food was consumed (approx. 4,000cal.)_

_Water and other liquid consumption is dangerously high._

Castiel had written that last part after having to leave the room, his vessel had started to react unpleasantly to seeing Dean finishing his liter of water and then go on to tip back the green-tinted liquid from the pickle jar. 

"Dean," He called into the cracked door, leaning onto the wall for support as his vessel was still feeling slightly nauseated. "...Are you finished yet?" 

"...Yeah." He heard him call back, and he creaked open the door to peek inside once again. 

Dean was sitting on the floor, surrounded by empty containers and wrappers. He wiped a bit of mustard from his mouth with the back of his hand and his eyes met Cas's, and for the first time the angel detected a bit of fear in his gaze. 

"Shit, man." Dean looked up at him from where he sat, cross-legged, his green eyes widened at all the empty wrappers and jars. "This is, uh, not good." 

 _Finally_ , Castiel thought to himself. _At least he still has some reason, though it comes and goes_. 

"What do we have to, you know, do for this, uh, bonding thing?" Dean began nervously, this time looking away. 

"It doesn't require much." Castiel replied. "All I need is a spellbowl, and a bit of your blood." 

"Do you have the spellbowl?" 

Cas could almost _feel_ his desperation. "I do, yes." He replied softly. "Dean-" His tone insinuated _I know where this is going, and I don't like it._

"We should do it now." Dean said anyway. He gulped. "Cas, I...I can feel it." 

"Oh," The word fell quietly from his lips. 

"I can tell it's in there now. Right before I turned, when I was a demon, I was always holding it off...and it's building back up again. I thought it was all gone, but...you were right." Dean admitted, training his eyes on the floor. "Cas- I can't live like this anymore. I can't fight it this time."

"The Darkness has been growing since I first found you." The angel admitted to him as he came closer cautiously. "It's now at one hundred and fifty milliliters-" 

"So, in _real people_ terms...?"

"Just over a half of a fluid cup." Castiel replied. "The substance, within a body, takes on a liquid form." 

Dean screwed up his face. "Gross. And where is it, exactly?" 

"Mainly within your chest region, remaining in or around most of your core and vital organs." 

"...And you can, what, burn this stuff out of me?" Dean looked down at disgust at his own bare torso, going on to place a tentative hand over his stomach.  

"In crude terms, yes." Cas replied softly. 

"Get that bowl, Cas." Dean's voice was strained, and he turned away from him once again, hiding his amputated side from view as he leaned defeatedly against the bedpost. "I'm so tired of fighting this." 

Cas curled his hand over Dean's shoulder, lightly squeezing to try and comfort him. "Okay," He hummed softly. "I'm sorry, Dean. This will all be over soon." 

The angel was extremely unprepared to have a fist impact right in his face, and he stumbled and fell backwards. His hand pressed to his lip, which had split and began to seep an unpleasant iron taste into his mouth. Dean was making a fast break for the door, and the broken chain pentagram above would do nothing to stop him.

"Dean-!" Cas yelped, throwing an arm out and making the door slam shut telekinetically before he could reach it and escape. 

Dean struggled with the door, jerking it hard backward, then throwing his body weight on it. "Let me out of here! So _hungry_ , Cas, goddammit, you son of a-" 

The angel pressed two fingers to his forehead quickly after flying the five feet or so in half a second. Dean slumped against the heavy iron door, his stomach letting out a hungry gurgle and groan. "Oh, Dean." The angel huffed, kneeling down to snake his arms up under Dean's armpits and drag him back to the bed.

There was no doubt now, he knew. The Darkness made humans so incredibly ravenous that they'd begin to crave human flesh very, very soon. And Croatoan would rear its ugly head, as prophesied.  

He just hoped the ritual would still work if one of them were handcuffed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean groaned softly as he felt a familiar, biting scrape of a knife over his forearm. His head lolled back, and his eyes fluttered open. He was in a different room this time. He felt warm blood dribble from his wound, and he blinked a few times and finally looked down to see his wrist was cuffed with the same thick, sigiled band of iron that they'd used on Crowley. 

Cas was holding up his arm at the wrist, and his blood was somewhat steadily dripping into a copper bowl positioned between the two of them, with strange symbols carved all along the lip. Cas sat criss-cross in front of him, the bowl tucked right up against his legs. Dean tried to jerk away, but the angel's grip was steadfast. 

"I apologize," He said, his voice rumbling grumpily. "But I have to do this." 

"Get me out of this cuff, Cas." Dean demanded, his voice growling low. 

The angel sighed and produced a bandage, and his fingers were gentle and quick as he wound it around Dean's arm a few times. He looked down at the copper bowl, which now had dark, almost blackish blood pooling at the bottom, and dragged the same knife across the soft underbelly of one of his arms. His eyes met Dean's as his blood began to fall. "You fought me the first time, too. In hell, when I came to finally take you away, you struggled against me. You said it was where you _belonged_ , that torturing souls was the only place that you felt _right_. I knew that wasn't true. And I'll be damned if I let this darkness rot you from the inside, either." He practically snarled that last part. He wrapped his own arm up too- which was strange to see, since he usually healed himself in less than a second.

A strange, animalistic growl was building in the back of Dean's throat and his teeth were gritted and bared. The angel submerged two fingers into the mix of bloods without so much as a cringe and began to swirl them together. He brought his ruby glistening fingers up and began to slowly paint a sigil on Dean's chest. 

Dean sucked in a breath and his eyes fell closed, he fell forward and his chain clinked as it stopped him from falling completely forward as he pressed his palm to the cold concrete floor. "...Cas," He croaked weakly. The angel couldn't help but reach out and steady him with his clean hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Dean. This is almost over." 

Dean was barely conscious as Cas held his wrist and guided his trembling hand, dipping it into the blood and leading as he drew a strange symbol on his own chest. "Now," Cas gritted his teeth and gripped both sides of the bowl. The sigils flashed white for half a second before the metal shattered and the blood radiated outward in all directions, the lines speeding along the floor like snakes. These ropes of blood began to draw more symbols as it rushed along the concrete in every which direction, finally coming to a standstill as it closed to surround the two of them in a large circle. Dean couldn't help but cringe at the way it looked similar to the way the blood had moved to create a portal to open hell. This must have been something pretty damn powerful, too. 

Cas shut his eyes and clasped Dean's hand, the other rested on his knee. Dean's head spun as a very familiar, powerful rumbling combined with a high-pitched whine began to build up, louder and louder. The last things he saw was an impossible cluster of thousands of shiny obsidian wings and feathers, some of them with gigantic silver eyes that slowly batted at him. And there were _wheels_ : hundreds of silver wheels all around him, some with more eyes on them, some with strange symbols or holes, and they had started to spin- faster and faster, becoming blurs like flicked coins. And Cas's dark hair was floating like he was underwater, the shiny red blood painted on his chest was glowing white, and-

The next thing Dean saw was the inside of one of the small trash bins from the kitchen, as his stomach spasmed and he spewed all of the food he'd wolfed down a few hours ago. His throat gulped not on his accord, and with another heave more stomach acid and mashed food sprayed into the can in front of him. Dean let out a low moan, and was surprised to hear another moan overlapping his at the exact same time. 

He could tell, even with his eyes sealed shut, where exactly Cas was. He was sitting next to his bed, outstretching the bowl for him, he knew exactly where he'd be if he were to reach out and touch him. 

"You've been nauseous for some time now." Cas piped up softly, looking a bit queasy himself. "Mainly because of your incredible food intake. I...came prepared." 

He finally met the angel's blue eyes. Without saying anything, Dean reached down to try and smear away the blood that had been finger painted on his torso. However, he only found soft cotton instead of bare skin and anything sticky. "I took care of that as well." Cas replied. "I'm...going to clean this up now." 

The angel left the room, and Dean closed his eyes and rested flat on his back. Thank God for memory foam. It was eerie how he could tell where Cas was at all times, as if he were a separate body part. Just like he'd always know where his pinky toe was, he could feel Cas in the same way. _Something about the nine senses,_ Dean thought. _Propo- well, 'prop' something_. His ceiling fan lazily spinned above him, and he looked at his mounted guns. Damn, it felt good to be in his own room and not any more dingy prisons carved out of the ground below the bunker.

Dean still wasn't used to the sensation of his missing arm, and even now it burned. He could tell exactly when Cas would come back into the room. He tried to focus on anything else but the burning, twisted muscles in his missing arm. 

Cas sat back down on the chair positioned next to his bed and paused for a moment. "Proprioception." He answered. "One of the lesser known human senses, like equilibrium or thermoception." He paused for a moment. "...You're angry with me." He began softly. 

 "Get out of here, Cas." Dean groaned. "Just leave me the fuck alone." 

"Dean, I-" 

"Get out!" Dean demanded, and before he could stop his impulse his hand had curled around the shaft of his bedside lamp and he hurled it across the room. It impacted on the door, the lightbulb shattered, and the iron pieces skittered across the room. And before he could stop his words, they came pouring out of his mouth. "Why me, Cas? After the darkness hit, you thought you'd just come for me? Rescue _me_? Why?! I'm _nothing_! I'm nothing without Sam, he was gone too and you came for _me_?! I'm useless now, Cas! I don't have an arm, how the hell am I supposed to help you? I can't shoot a gun, I can't fight, I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "You should have left me, and looked for him. You should have left me to die in that car, if it meant you could have rescued Sam." 

 "That's not how it would have worked, and you know it." Cas growled, coming a bit closer. "Believe me, I would have done anything in my power to find him. Like I said, this darkness hinders me. I could not locate him like I did for you." He gripped onto Dean's shirt. "And I could not let you die, Dean. Not like that." That was when Dean felt it- a strong surge of emotion, washing over him like a tide, and the foreignness of it made his head spin. Dean remembered the past few days like he had been in a haze, but he did remember now what Cas had said about the bond. 

"Right. So, you saved me. _Great_." Dean butted right back. "But I want to know what the fuck are you doing now?!" Dean curled into himself, a painful repressed sob squeezing at his ribs. "Sitting on your ass here when Sam could be anywhere, he could be hurting, this shit could be inside him too-" His chest jumped as a soft sob escaped. These were almost the exact words Cas had tried to tell him mere hours ago, and Dean hadn't felt _anything_. Dean sat up on his bed and curled in his knees, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. "God, Cas." His words trembled. "You were right. About everything." 

Castiel was a bit startled when Dean reached for him, pulling him closer and burying his face in his chest, gripping onto the back of his shirt with his hand. The angel wrapped his arms around him, gently pressing him close. Cas pressed his cheek to his soft hair and rubbed his back in a slow circle, finally snaking his fingers up into the hairs above the nape of his neck. Dean's body trembled beneath him. 

"Sam's gone, Jesus-" His voice broke in the middle and a soft sob followed. "My arm hurts so damn  _bad_...how can it hurt when it's not even here? _Sam_...just like Sammy...God, how could I ever..." 

Castiel pulled away, his one arm on Dean's shoulder and the other carefully on his neck, making sure not to touch the painful wound underneath its wrappings. He simply watched, unblinking, as tears fell from Dean's quickly reddening eyes. 

"Cas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I could have- I almost killed you-" Dean whispered. 

"I'm all right," Castiel mumbled softly. "It's all over now. It's gone." Dean closed his eyes and turned his face into Cas's pressing hand, as his thumb traced over the smooth skin on his cheekbone to wipe away the tear. 

"You need rest." Cas announced gently. "I underestimated how much your shock and bloodloss took a toll on your body." 

"We've already lost too much time, Cas." Dean insisted stubbornly. "I gotta- I have to learn how to do stuff. Left handed. No, fucking _single_ handed. I need to learn how to use a gun again, shotguns are out because it would be impossible to reload 'em, I gotta learn how to use a blade, I can't even-" He huffed out a pathetic excuse for a laugh. "I can't even write my own name." He ran his palm down his face. He felt a strange twinge of something- _empathy?_ It took him a second to realize that the emotion wasn't coming from him, but from Cas once again. 

Dean met his sad, puppy-dog eyes. "I will help." The angel insisted. "We can save Sam." 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The house still had dried-up pools of blood staining the floor from when the Steins had been massacred. How could he forget? He'd been the one who'd really done it, after all. 

Sam's footsteps tended to be quite loud, seeing he wore an enormous shoe size and wasn't exactly feather-light. The one person who remained in this house would have heard them by now- but she continued to cower. No bother. He'd find her. 

The wet sound of the steady patter of blood on hardwood and marble and his slow, heavy footsteps were the only thing heard throughout the mansion. The soot from outside's storm had settled a long time ago, acting as a natural sound muffler. His patience was running short- if he didn't find the last surviving Stein, some of Dean's tissues would begin to die before he could have her attach it. 

A small whimper gave her away, finally, tucked away into a closet on the top floor. 

"Please," The young woman begged in a whisper, tears free-falling from her eyes without needing to blink. "Don't kill me." She hugged around herself even tighter. Empty cans and wrappers were piled all around her from food consumed long ago. 

"I won't do that," Sam observed her curiously. "As long as you do one thing for me."

She looked horrified as she stared at the bleeding arm Sam held in one hand, beginning to tremble. 

"I need this attached." Sam nodded to the arm. His hands were stained with garnet, and trails dripped down to his elbows. "Now." 

The woman's hands were surprisingly steady as she wove each stitch through flesh in Sam's bicep, dipping in and out with practiced ease as he held the arm out on the steel operating table. 

"How's that fit?" She asked meekly when she'd finally tied off the very last stitch. Sam flexed his newest arm and wiggled his fingers--Dean's silver ring flashed back at him. It was a bit shorter in length that the other, but it would have to do. He had all he needed as long as the Mark stayed on it. 

"Like a glove," Sam smirked, drumming Dean's fingers along the cold steel table. "I knew it would come in handy. Keeping you alive." He said coldly, examining the near-perfect stitching again. Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly and he placed his new hand over it. "Say," He began again. "You haven't happened to go outside since the dust came?" 

"I...yes. I needed more supplies." She answered softly, looking at him curiously with watery blue eyes. It would have been hard to associate her with the rest of the rugged Stein family. 

Sam smirked to himself. _Stupid girl_. 

"You've been hungry," Sam kept the lethal smirk on his lips, standing up and towering over her. "Ravenous, even." 

"Very," She answered uncertainly, looking up to his face and swallowing nervously. She looked to Sam's discarded right arm as it sat on the operating table. 

"You wanted to _eat_ that." Sam chuckled. "Don't deny it." 

"Y-You're hungry too?" She sputtered hopefully. "We can share it. We'll make it equal." 

"I had something else in mind," Sam flashed a dark smile and before she could understand what was happening, he'd swiped one of the blades from the operating table and had slit open her stomach. Along with the blood, something pure black like ink began to bubble up out of the wound. The creature wearing Sam and part of Dean licked its cracked lips. 

* * *

 "Stop." Cas said hollowly, placing a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. "That's enough for today." 

Dean's frustration from trying to strengthen the dexterity of his left hand had grown so large that even the angel couldn't concentrate on anything else. Dean had been trying to write for hours now, getting increasingly more frustrated as time went on and his handwriting still looked like a kindergartner's. 

"These things take time, Dean." 

"How am I supposed to handle a gun or _any_ kind of weapon if I can't even write my own fucking name?" Dean shoved Cas's hand away. "Leave me alone. Just let me do this by myself." 

"You're _not_ doing it by yourself no matter how hard you try. We're _bonded_ , remember?" Cas sat down across from him, irritable as well. "I feel what you feel, Dean. Vice versa." 

"Like I could forget," Dean mumbled under his breath. 

"It's late. You should rest." The angel stood up once again, as if he were expecting Dean to follow his lead. "Your emotions are...strong, Dean. This is hard for me, too." 

"Gee, Cas, you're right. This must be so _hard_ for you." Dean huffed. "Fuck off," He laughed bitterly, turning away so he didn't have to look at him.

Dean pretended like he didn't feel that hollow stab in his chest too. 

"Dean, I...I didn't mean it like that." Cas stuttered, lowering his head in shame. "I'm sorry this bond has started out like this, filled with anger and frustration. It won't always be like this," He reached for Dean once again, curling his fingers gently around his upper arm. "Goodnight," He said softly, and took his hand away just as abruptly. 

Dean barely looked at him, not quite turning around, and stormed off to his room. 

Cas stayed to clean up the mess Dean had made without complaint, gathering all the pencils and pens and clumping together the dozens of balled-up pieces of paper. The library looked like a mess- it had been a while since he'd been able to organize it for them. He might as well start again. 

Just as Dean had finally started to drift to sleep, he heard a very loud thud from the living room. Grabbing for the shotgun under his pillow, then letting out an audible growl when he realized he couldn't easily turn off the safety, cock it, or even aim with such a shaky and inexperienced hand. He dug around for his demon knife instead. How hard could stabbing something be? God, his head was killing him.

When he scanned the room he entered in light feet, nothing was giving out red flags. Cas was lying on the floor, just beginning to get up and rubbing his head. 

"Ouch," Cas said sleepily as he rubbed his forehead in small circles and he looked up at Dean. He had a book in his other hand. 

"What happened?" Dean asked, letting the blade hang limply by his side. 

"I...don't know." Cas scrunched his face up in confusion. "I think...I fell asleep. I hit my head when I fell off the stepladder." 

"You fell asleep shelving books?" Dean put down the blade on a bookshelf and offered his hand to help Cas up. "That's kinda weird. I didn't think you needed to sleep anymore." 

"I thought so too." Cas took his hand and got to his feet, rubbing his head one last time. "Were you sleeping?" 

"I was _about_ to." Dean said, and everything clicked into place. "Oh, Cas. I'm sorry. I didn't think it would do that." 

"I didn't think so either." Cas pursed his lips. "I don't know why it didn't happen when I knocked you out or when you passed out after seeing my true form. It must be that when you fall asleep naturally, I do too. I've...never bonded with a human before. I don't know these things." 

Dean hoped for his sake Cas would ignore the pang of subtle jealousy that felt like it came out of nowhere. 

"You've done this before?" Dean asked, trying to keep any bitterness out of his tone. 

"A few times. It's different with angels. Our... _radios_. It's like I've chosen to make their voices louder than the others. My closest siblings are the ones I've bonded with, I create a tighter circle out of the masses." He sighed. "...Most of them are dead now." 

"I'm sorry, Cas." Dean said softly, and Cas just looked at him wearily. 

"I should probably sleep as well, shouldn't I?" Cas ran a hand down his face. "It's been a long day." 

"Yeah, I'll set you up in one of the spare rooms." Dean yawned, and turned around. "It'll only take a minute." 

Cas hovered in the doorway as Dean tucked on the sheets and threw blankets on the bed, smoothing them down and patting the bed, trying to make it seem a little more inviting. "Alright, buddy." Dean smiled half-heartedly at him. "See you in the morning, I guess." 

"It smells in here." Cas pointed out shyly. The room was completely standard, with grey concrete walls and no decorations to speak of. Even the bed with its grey covers looked like all the surrounding grey.  "Like dust and darkness. There's no warmth and life in this room." He shivered, and swallowed shyly. "Please don't make me sleep in here, Dean." He whispered, hugging his elbows like a little kid.

Dean understood--he _was_ like a little kid in the way that he didn't have as many night's sleep as an adult, and the uncertainty of giving oneself up to unconsciousness scared him still. He wanted to feel safe. 

 "You can take Sam's room for now? Is that better?" Dean finally came closer to the doorway. Cas nodded. 

"I'm sorry I'm being a nuisance." Cas lowered his head in shame. "When I slept as a human, all I had were bad dreams and nightmares. Maybe if I tried something different they'd stop..." He sighed softly. "I'm sorry I didn't say something earlier, and you made that whole bed for me." 

"It's fine," Dean waved the comment away. "It's good to keep on using this arm and make it stronger, you know?" 

Cas nodded again, still looking at the ground.

"The nightmares don't go away." Dean hated to admit, but it wouldn't be fair to lie to Cas. "It doesn't matter if you're cozy and safe as can be going to sleep. They come back. They always do, when you've seen the kinds of things we've seen." 

"I know." Cas sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean felt his anxiety and cold terror wash over him, and chills swept down his spine. That wasn't something the angel could fake. 

"Fine." Dean said gruffly. "Just..." He didn't have to finish the sentence, he felt too embarrassed to. Cas should have understood, now that they had this dumb bond giving away every single private thought he'd ever had. Dean brushed past him and Cas followed. 

"I can't _believe_ I'm letting you get away with this." Dean flicked on the lights in his room and padded to his bed in the middle of the room. He waved vaguely over at his dresser. "PJs are in the bottom right, make yourself comfortable." 

"Dean, thank you." Cas gave him a small smile before going to rummage in the drawer. Dean mumbled a 'yeah, yeah' and slipped under his covers that were still warm from his body heat. The bed was big, anyway. Dean never really did sleep over on the left side of it in the first place. 

Dean had to pretend he didn't feel a rush of nerves when Cas slipped into bed beside him a moment later and the mattress creaked. He didn't turn to look at him, but rather just reached out to turn off the bedside lamp with a faint click. Cas rustled to try and get comfortable, but at least the two weren't touching. There seemed to be enough space between them so they could just keep to themselves. 

 _We already share pretty much every thought we have with each other,_ Dean reasoned. _This is nothing compared to that._

"Dean," Cas whispered, a slight warning in his tone. "Stop it. Just try and get some sleep, okay?" 

Dean sighed and tried to relax. "Okay," He replied into the darkness, hooking his good arm around one of his pillows and settling his cheek into it. "G'night." 

It was strange that Dean wasn't even sure if the dream was his own. Everything was darkness and soot, and they were outside in the wastelands once again, where everything was covered in the Darkness. "Dad!" The cry rang out, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "Da-a-a-d," The voice sobbed brokenly in pain. "Help me!" 

They were running, but the incline was impossible as the loose, black sediments kept them slipping down over and over again. "Claire!" It was Cas's voice this time, barking out and coughing on the soot. "Claire, _ol pasbs_ , where are you?" 

They continued to struggle up the hill of shifting sand, scrabbling fruitlessly against shifting sands with both their hands and feet, when suddenly their foot caught on something hard and a crunching noise made queasiness stir deep down in their stomach. 

"Dad..." A rotting hand covered in soot curled around their ankle. Finger bones and red, bleeding flesh could be seen over the thick coating of inky black dust, and Claire's head emerged from the soot-covered earth. Her face looked like it had been rotted away, her eyes yellowed and without light coming from them, like the vacant stare of a fish on ice. She began to slip away, like the ash had turned to water and the tides were dragging her away. 

" _Claire_!" Cas screamed, reaching for her decaying, blackened hand. "My child--" But she was being swept away much too fast. They collapsed amongst the ash, struggling to breathe through the choking ash and through the tears. Wind whistled eerily across the wasteland. Just when they thought the dream was over-- Sam's distinct voice carried over from the wastelands.

" _Dean_!" 

The both of them woke up with gasps and in cold sweats, huffing loudly into the darkness as their chests heaved and they lay side-by-side on Dean's bed. _We were the same person in our dreams,_ Dean realized now. It had an been extremely strange feeling. 

"Dean," Cas croaked from beside him, breathing hard. 

"I'm right here," Dean replied breathlessly. "It's okay, Cas. It wasn't real." 

Cas sat for a moment and tried to regain his breath. Dean flipped onto his stomach and searched under the covers for his hand, and when he found it he squeezed reassuringly. Cas squeezed weakly back. 

"I know she's not my daughter." Cas began in a pained voice. "I know that. She just...slipped and called me Dad once. It was only once, but...it stuck with me." Cas admitted. "It's selfish. It's disrespectful to Jimmy." He ran a hand down his face. "But I can't change that I feel that way toward her now. It just...took root." 

Dean nodded back, his hairs making a faint scrubbing noise on his pillow. "We'll find her, all right?" He rubbed his thumb in a slow arc across the back of Cas's hand. 

"Okay," Cas whispered back, squeezing Dean's hand one more time before letting go. "That nightmare was my fault. I'm sorry for dragging you into it." 

"I think it was both of ours." Dean replied, swallowing nervously. They both didn't want to bring up Sam's desperate cry at the end. "I'm worried about Claire too."

Cas hummed softly in response, rustling in the sheets again. "Should we try and sleep again?" He asked softly. "I don't know if I can." 

"We should try for just a couple more hours," Dean replied, suddenly realizing how tired he was. "We can both hit the gun range tomorrow morning." 

"Okay," Cas agreed softly. He was much closer to Dean this time, compared to the wide gap that had been there before they'd gone to sleep. Some of the angel's body heat seeped over to Dean's side, but it made Dean feel a bit more comfortable and safe, as much as he hated to admit. "I will see you in the morning." 

Cas's warm breath was brushing on Dean's shoulder. Dean's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could just barely see his face. 

"Try and relax." Dean reached over and combed his fingers through Cas's hair, feeling the soft hairs sift between his fingers. "Think of happy things as you fall asleep. Maybe that'll help." 

"Thanks," Cas whispered. "I'll try." The two weren't touching, but they were curved toward another and their faces were just inches apart. Dean stoked at Cas's cheek, not surprised to find wetness there and he stroked away the tear. 

"You can sleep here with me as often as you'd like, okay?" Dean offered. "Especially if we're sharing dreams, anyway." 

"Okay, Dean." Cas's voice was hushed with tears. He brought up what the two of them had been avoiding. "I'm sorry about Sam." 

Dean still heard his desperate cry, ringing all around the ashy wastelands, echoing in his head. That had been fully his contribution to the dream, he knew that for certain. 

Dean flipped around so the two were no longer facing each other and scooted closer to the edge of the bed to widen the gap. He was still frustrated that the angel wasn't doing nearly enough to try and find his brother, and if he couldn't tell where he was, couldn't he be doing something else?

"Go to sleep, Cas." Dean said to the far wall. Sam was out there, and he needed their help. Dean tried to shove that thought aside and get some sleep. His missing arm burned again. 


End file.
